


Remembrance

by Timeline15



Series: Ghosts and Angels [2]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Shadow Weaver funeral fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24875212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timeline15/pseuds/Timeline15
Summary: Weeks after Horde Prime's defeat, Catra is still troubled by things left unsaid. She's glad that Shadow Weaver is gone, really. So why does she still want so badly to say goodbye?
Relationships: Adora & Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Catra & Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)
Series: Ghosts and Angels [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848541
Comments: 11
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

Catra had nightmares a lot of nights; had done for years. Growing up in the horde did that to you. She knew the one she was currently experiencing almost off by heart. Her limbs were bound by an invisible force and she floated in a sea of endless darkness, broken only by the crackles of red lightning that occasionally sparked around her.

As always, the darkness was accompanied by a voice; the same voice she had heard for years, every time she was punished for acting out.

“ _Catra_. I’m _so_ disappointed in you. You always _were_ worthless. I will _not_ let you jeopardise Adora’s potential!”

For a while, Catra had reached a point where she barely felt anything during that dream. Being admonished the same way for years upon years had a way of making the words lose their edge. So, she simply tensed her body, willed her breathing to stay as slow and clam as possible, and waited for the moment to pass.

In recent times though, the once familiar pain had taken on a new sting. In an instant, the lightning stopped, and Catra felt a warm hand against her face. It stroked her cheek and ear, even stopping to tousle the small tuft of hair that hung down at the side of her head. Despite her best efforts to remain tensed, Catra relaxed into its touch, longing for that tiny gesture of comfort; the closest thing to affection she’d ever got from-

The hand was yanked away before Catra could even react, pulled by some unseen force. Catra’s gaze shot up to see the familiar cloaked figure stood in front of her, now looking the other way and staring down some sort of horrible creature.

“No! Stop, please don’t!” Catra attempted to yell, but the words caught silently in her throat.

The cloaked figure turned to her, and Catra was subjected to the same images she had seen over and over again in her head since that day. A barrier rose up, blocking Catra’s path. A mask mask fell to the floor. The figure, her face now uncovered, smiled at Catra for just a moment, before being engulfed by a searing burst of flame.

Catra was woken by her own scream, shooting up into a sitting position before she had even fully regained consciousness. Breathing raggedly, she felt the bedsheet clinging to her sweat-soaked fur. Throwing off the constricting mass of covers, she gulped in the night air as though it was water in the Crimson Wastes.

She only managed to calm herself when she felt a hand touch her arm. Not the clawed, two-faced affection of the dream, but something firmer; real. She turned her head to see Adora looking up at her, her face fraught with concern. Catra felt a pang of guilt for waking her (that emotion seemed to come easily these days), but stifled the urge to apologise. With Perfuma’s help, she had been getting a little bit better at knowing when something wasn’t a big enough deal to be worth apologising for.

“Catra” Adora spoke, her voice soft and low from sleep “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah” Catra replied, knowing before the word even left her mouth that she didn’t sound very convincing.

“…Was it that dream again?” Adora asked in a tone so gentle that Catra couldn’t bring herself to feel any anger at her prying.

“…Yeah” Catra admitted, turning her face away so that Adora couldn’t see the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

The next thing she knew, she felt Adora hugging her from behind, face nuzzling gently into her neck. “It’s okay Catra” Adora whispered, her words muffled somewhat by the mouthful of neck fur “I’m here. I love you, and I’m here. Whatever you need right now, just say the word.”

That was all it took to break the last of Catra’s composure. She allowed the tears to fall, grateful when Adora clutched her more tightly as the sobs wracked her body. When they had finally subsided enough that she felt somewhat in control of herself, she flipped round to cuddle Adora face-to-face. She savoured the connection as their foreheads pressed together, finally allowing her to settle her breathing fully.

“Thanks for that Adora” Catra whispered hoarsely. “I… that really helped.”

“Any time” Adora replied with a smile. “Do you want to talk about it? About…her, I mean?” she asked, her face shifting back to one of concern.

“I… yeah, okay” Catra relented, surprising even herself “Just… Promise you won’t judge me, okay?”

“Of course” Adora replied in a tone so heartfelt that made it sound as though she considered the very idea blasphemous.

“Alright then” Catra muttered, steeling herself and attempting to order her thoughts. There was something she had considered discussing with Adora for some time now, and this seemed like as good a time as any. “I think… I think I wanna do something for her; for Shadow Weaver I mean. Like… I dunno, a service or party or burial or something.” She buried her face in Adora’s shoulder as soon as she was done speaking “You can get mad if you want. I know it’s a dumb idea.”

Adora pulled Catra off her shoulder and held her at arm’s length. For a terrifying instant, Catra was afraid to look at Adora’s face, fearing the anger or sadness that might be there. When she worked up the courage to lift her eyes though, Adora was smiling back at her.

“Catra that’s… that’s sweet. If it’s something you wanna do, then we can do it.”

Even after weeks being back with Adora, Catra was still blown away by how willing her old friend was to entertain her ideas; to go along with her every impulsive, emotional decision without a second thought. It took every ounce of self-control she possessed not to lean over and kiss Adora there and then, and instead let her finish what she had to say.

“I just don’t understand _why_ you want to do it. She was _awful_ to you; to _us_. I mean, yeah, _I’ve_ thought about putting on some sort of service for her, but I… she was never anywhere near as bad to me. I figured you’d just want to be done with her.”

“I _do_ want to be done with her” Catra replied, “but I think this is part of that, y’know? I need to… I need to actually say goodbye.”

When she actually said it out loud, it sounded even more absurd than it had in her head. She couldn’t help but chuckle as she went on. “And that’s dumb right? I mean, she was never anything but horrible to us. I shouldn’t even _want_ to say goodbye; I shouldn’t give her the satisfaction of treating her life like it was this thing that actually _mattered_ ; I shouldn’t…. I shouldn’t miss her.”

Before Catra could succumb to her desire to leap from the bed and find the darkest, most secluded corner of the room to hide in, Adora grabbed her by the hand and looked her square in the face. “Catra, listen to me: there _is_ no “shouldn’t”. She’s _gone_. She’ll never even get to know that we’re doing this. So maybe… maybe we’re not doing it for her. Maybe we’re doing it for _us_. And… maybe it’s okay to wanna do stuff for us every now and again?”

Even though the tears were still coming, Catra couldn’t help but smile. She still found it so hard not to blame herself for every thought, and emotion, and desire, but Adora made it all feel so much easier.

“Alright” she chuckled wetly as she placed her own hand over Adora’s. “Let’s do it.”

The next morning, the Adora and Catra rose early, leaving the castle before anyone else was awake. It wasn’t “sneaking out” per se; it just felt right keeping it to themselves for the time being. It wasn’t difficult to get out unseen, as Glimmer and Bow had spent the past few days embroiled in some sort of lab project with Entrapta and Hordak which seemed to involve a lot of late nights, and, by extension, late mornings. This meant that, aside from the expected guard patrols, the castle was mostly deserted.

As the sky faded from purple to orange, the pair set off into the whispering woods. Whatever She-Ra had done to the planet when she unleashed the Heart’s magic had made the creatures of the woods a lot more docile, so there weren’t any holdups along the way. Neither of them spoke as they walked; the usual banter seeming somehow unsuitable to fill the specific type of silence. Instead, they opted to keep a tight hold on each other’s hand, letting touch convey what words could not.

Almost before they knew it, they were stood at the entrance of the First Ones ruin. Neither of them had been back since shutting down the Heart; too many memories. Ironically, memories were the exact reason they had returned now.

“You sure you want to do this?” Adora asked, turning to Catra. “I won’t feel bad if you wanna turn back.”

“I’m fine” Catra replied, focusing on the feel of Adora’s hand in her own to keep her breathing level. “Let’s just get what we came for, get out, and never have to think about this place again.”

“Okay” Adora smiled back, briefly tightening her hold on Catra’s hand into a reassuring squeeze, before the pair stepped over the threshold.

It didn’t take them long to find the chamber where she… where it had happened. Thankfully the room’s memory-projecting properties appeared to be offline, so it simply appeared to Catra and Adora as a blank open space. The smooth metal walls still bore the scorch marks from the final devastating spell that had slain the First Ones’ guardian creature.

There was no way that what they were looking for should still have been there after a blast that powerful, but there it was. Sat near the doorway, in the same place it had fallen; a mask…her mask. It had broken into a couple of pieces, either from the fall or the following explosion, but it was otherwise in surprisingly good condition. Catra mused for a moment that the witch had probably placed some sort of protective spell on it long ago. That _would_ explain why her own claws had barely been able to crack the thing, despite usually ripping through metal as think as her arm with ease. Were it not for the myriad of overwhelming emotion beginning to well up inside her, she might have been impressed.

As she bent down to lift the pieces, Catra hesitated. She wasn’t sure precisely why; given that it was highly unlikely the fragments posed any danger. Even if Shadow Weaver had cursed the damn mask, any enchantment likely would have lifted after…

“Adora?” Catra asked, the slight tremble in her voice not going unnoticed by her companion. “Could… could _you_ pick it up? Actually touching it kinda… makes it all a bit too real for me.”

“Of course” Adora replied immediately, crouching down and gathering up the shards. They felt fragile in her hands, whatever magic that had once reinforced them now entirely dissipated. She ran her thumb slowly over the cool, porcelain-like surface. It felt strange; staring down at the partial face in her hands. It was only a mask of course, but outside of the occasional stolen glimpses back in the Fright Zone, it was the only face of Shadow Weaver’s that she had ever known. Even now, despite the blank space behind its eyes, she half expected the thing to cock an eyebrow at her and begin whispering half-truths into her ear.

“Hey” she piped up. “How _did_ Shadow Weaver manage to make this thing move with her facial expressions anyway?”

“You’re asking _me_?” Catra shot back with a smirk. “I dunno; probably some weird magical junk. If you want a proper answer, ask Glimmer’s old man or something.”

Adora smiled back at her. She had mainly asked in the hopes of raising Catra’s spirit, and it seemed as though her ploy had worked.

“Come on” Adora said, pocketing the mask pieces and taking Catra’s hand. “Let’s get back to Brightmoon. We can work out the specifics once we’re home.”

“No argument here” Catra concurred. “This place still gives me the creeps.”

This time, the journey wasn’t passed in silence. The pair chatted and laughed all the way back to Brightmoon.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, how do you want to do this?” Adora asked as they sat staring at the shards of mask on their table. “Should we bury them, or?..”

“Eh, I’m not really feeling it” Catra replied nonchalantly, the extent of her emotional investment only given away by the prickling of the fur on her tail; something Adora had learned to notice. “It doesn’t feel… final enough, y’know? People still _visit_ graves; even talk to them sometimes. I‘m not sure I want it to feel like she’s still hanging over me. Besides... we wouldn’t know what to write on it.”

“Okay, so no grave or statue or anything; that’s cool. What do you have in mind then?” Adora asked, yet again instantly caving to Catra’s desires in a way that brought the feline to the brink of tears. This time though, she managed to supress them.

“I was thinking maybe we… burn them?” Catra asked in a ‘stop me if I’m sounding insane’ kind of tone. “Besides, a giant fire is way cooler than some rock with words on anyway.”

“Okay, funeral pyre it is” Adora agreed. “That only leaves us with one last question.”

“And what’s that?” Catra asked, unsure of what further details could be needed. “Is there some sort of sacred princess funeral custom I don’t know about or something?”

“No, no; it’s nothing like that.” Adora smiled back. “I just wanted to ask you how…private you wanted it to be.”

“Oh” Catra mumbled.

“I mean, if you want it to be just for the two of us, that’s absolutely fine” Adora began “but if you’re okay with it, I think there might be a few people who might wanna come. Shadow Weaver had… history… with quite a few people over the years.”

Catra thought for a moment. She _had_ pictured it being just being her and Adora, but if she was being honest, that would probably make it feel less like a funeral and more like two people just throwing stuff on a fire, so perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to have a couple more people; it might feel more official that way.

“Okay” she replied after a steadying breath. “Anyone who wants to can come, just… just as long as there’s not too many of them, okay? I’m probably gonna get pretty personal, and I don’t want half of Brightmoon seeing it.”

“Thanks Catra” Adora grinned, reaching over to give Catra’s hand another firm squeeze. “I’ll let people know. I wouldn’t worry though; she didn’t exactly have many friends, and to be honest most of her _enemies_ weren’t really personal either. It’ll probably just be us and King Micah.”

“Alright” Catra smirked back “but if I end up crying in front of Sparkles’ dad, I’m blaming you.”

In the end, it turned out that Adora had been right about the guest list; well, near enough right at least. When they held the service the next day, Micah turned up as expected, with Castaspella in tow. Catra hadn’t been expecting her, but she supposed it made sense. The sorceress was from Mystacor, and while she could only have been a child during Shadow Weaver’s time there, the two had seemed to have quite the antipathy from what little Catra had seen of their interactions in the final days of the war.

“Thank you for coming Your Majesty” Adora greeted Micah.

“Adora, please; this is a friends and family event. Drop the formalities” the king replied with a wide grin.

Catra wasn’t sure how he was able to be so cheerful at what seemed like such a sombre event. They _were_ meeting up to talk about the fact that somebody had _died_ after all, even if said person was a horrible old wretch who almost certainly deserved it. Still, she was working on being polite these days, so she greeted Micah and Castaspella as warmly as she could, forcing a smile onto her face all the while.

With only four attendees, the pleasantries were over mercifully quickly, and before long Catra was in her seat. The service was being held on one of Brightmoon castle’s many garden balconies. Not the one which had housed Shadow Weaver’s own greenhouse mind you; that one was still considered hazardous enough as to be off-limits, and any attempts to remove the sinister plants had resulted in a few trips to the infirmary for the palace gardeners. No, this balcony was much more pleasant; almost _too_ pleasant to be fitting for the event, Catra thought. Still, the floral scent of the place, and the rather appetising-looking birds flitting about, helped to calm her nerves somewhat.

Adora took her place behind a lectern facing the group’s seats. She wasn’t reading off anything, so it was entirely unneeded, but it just felt like the sort of thing one did at this type of event. Allowing herself one last deep, slow breath, she tried her best to say the words she wanted to get out.

“Thank you all for coming. We’re here today to… acknowledge… the life of Shadow Weaver, formerly Light Spinner of Mystacor. To say her relationship with the people in this room was complicated would be an understatement, but for better or worse, she left a mark on all of us”

Catra nodded at the sentiment, though the thought of Shadow Weaver ‘leaving a mark’ on her made her imagine an ugly purple bruise.

“Shadow Weaver caused a lot of hurt in her life” Adora continued “and yet, we were able to find something else in her too. Whether that something was actually there, we’ll never know, but it was real to us. Some of us chose to see in her a mentor, some of us…. A mother.” The rhythm of Adora’s speech faltered for an instant. She had been planning on saying those words since she had started brainstorming her speech the previous night, but actually saying them brought a fresh pain to the surface that she hadn’t anticipated.

Biting back the sting in the corners of her eyes and willing her lip not to quiver, she delivered the last of her part of the service. “And it’s because of those feelings, more than anything she actually did, that we’ve all come to say goodbye. We’ve no idea how she would have wanted to be laid to rest, and frankly I’m not even sure we should care, so we’ll simply do things the Etherian way. Castaspella?”

The sorceress rose from her seat, her expression serious yet tranquil. She and Adora gave each other a nod as the latter returned to her seat. Walking over to the table with held the mask shards Catra and Adora had gathered, she began drawing a glowing blue spell circle above them. “I will now perform the sacred funeral rite of Mystacor; the consecration of a mage’s personal artefacts. This mask is the only possession of hers we have, so it will have to suffice.”

It wasn’t long before Castaspella completed her spell circle, and lowered it gently onto the shards with a flick of her wrist. The instant the magical seal struck the broken mask; a blinding flash of red light filled the room.

After a couple of seconds, Catra’s eyesight returned, and she looked around to see the other three also rubbing their eyes. Of far greater concern though, was the look of surprise on Castaspella’s face; a look that gave away that this was _not_ just a normal part of the ritual that the sorceress had neglected to mention.

A column of light rose from the mask, fuzzy at first, before hardening into a more distinct, if flickering, image. Catra’s heart clenched in her chest at the sight before her. Projected from the mask like some sort of First Ones’ hologram, was a translucent red rendering of Shadow Weaver.

“I’ll get to the point” the hologram spoke in Shadow Weaver’s unmistakable tone. “If you’re seeing this message, it means that one of my fellow mages has attempted to consecrate my mask… which in turn means that I am no more. The question that remains is… how many of _you_ survived.”

The mask let out a horizontal beam of red light, dimmer than the last, running over the bodies of everyone in the room one after the other. The image of Shadow Weaver flickered more intensely for a moment, as if processing the information.

“Ah, _Adora_. If you’re seeing this portion of the message, the mask has detected that you are alive. I can only assume therefore that you survived your trip into the Heart. I’m _so_ relieved. I realise that probably means very little to you in your current… _rebellious_ phase, but it’s true all the same. I’m certain you’ll continue to do great things.”

Catra wanted to roll her eyes at the pathetic attempt at affection, but swallowed the urge the she saw Adora’s hunched posture, and how the girl was clenching her fists in her lap. Cara reached over and stroked her arm. Adora’s muscles relaxed slight, and she gave Catra a weak smile.

“You okay?” Catra asked.

“Yeah, I think so” Adora replied. “I know that wasn’t exactly…warm, but I think it still felt good to hear. Thanks for checking.”

Catra matched her smile, and was about to keep talking when the hologram interrupted.

“I’d like you to have this Adora” the projection continued, as a paragraph of magical script glowed into being beside her. “ _This_ is a spell which makes the body more resilient against magic. As She-Ra, you are already _incredibly_ durable, but the power of the Failsafe must be putting strain on even _you_. Have one of your more magically inclined friends perform this spell on you; it will strengthen your body further, and ensure you live the long life you so thoroughly deserve.”

Catra and Adora exchanged a glance at that, and Catra couldn’t help but smirk. Shadow Weaver had no way of knowing that the Failsafe had been dispersed across Etheria along with the rest of the planet’s magic by She-Ra’s final blast. Somehow, Shadow Weaver’s ignorance comforted Catra. It felt good that the witch couldn’t even conceive of a future in which they were entirely safe and happy, while she and Adora got to _live_ it, every day.

“And _Micah_.” The hologram cut in, unaware of Catra’s thoughts. “My dear, _sweet_ Micah. It seems you made it out in one piece too. I don’t know _who_ I have to thank for freeing you from Horde Prime’s control, but I’m _eternally_ grateful. There is _so_ much that I wish we could have said to one another, but that time has _long_ passed, and besides, there are _children_ present.”

Catra swore she could practically hear Shadow Weaver’s smirk behind the mask. As for what she’d just _said_ , well… Catra had less than zero desire to find out what that particular part of the message would have been like had Shadow Weaver and Micah been alone. Fortunately the hologram turned the conversation to less disturbing matters.

“Though I _doubt_ you’ll ever choose to _use_ it, there’s something I want you to have” said the image of Shadow Weaver, as a series of glowing notes and diagrams appeared in the air.

“ _These_ are the details of all the spells and incantations I used to bond myself to the Black Garnet. It would take a _very_ skilled sorcerer to successfully cast them, but we both know that _you_ wouldn’t have any trouble, Micah. Should an unfortunate fate ever befall your daughter, you can use these spells to take the power of the Moonstone for _yourself_ ; become Brightmoon’s _sole_ protector if necessary. An unpleasant thought for you, I’m sure, but a necessary possibility to prepare for. No need to thank me.”

Catra’s fur bristled at Shadow Weaver’s attitude. Was this some sort of messed up idea of a _gift_?! A “hey, I made plans for if your daughter dies” present? Really?

A quick glance over to Micah revealed that he was only marginally less angry. He glared at the hologram for a prolonged moment, before begrudgingly holding out his hand. The spell diagrams all flew into his hand, vanishing into his body as he absorbed the information they contained. Accepting knowledge that had been used to cause so much harm left him with a bitter taste in his mouth, but, as ever, he couldn’t deny his former teacher’s pragmatism. Unlike Adora’s gift, this one might well be needed some day, as much as he hated to admit it.

“Well then” the hologram continued, leaving the guests no time to reflect on her previous words “I suppose that brings me to you… _Catra_.”

Catra went rigid at the sound of her own name. Hearing Shadow Weaver’s voice again was difficult enough, but she had honestly expected to be left out of this little beyond-the-grave monologue entirely. The idea that Shadow Weaver would have even paid her enough mind to think to mention her was hard to accept.

What was more confusing though was the jumbled mix of emotions now bubbling to the surface of her mind. There was trepidation of course; she wasn’t sure she could take any more sugar-coated lies, opening her heart up only to crush it with some new betrayal; but more strangely, there was an infuriating feeling of happiness at being acknowledged. She hated that it felt good; she should have been long past needing the old hag’s approval.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that _you’re_ here” the hologram continued, not even offering Catra the courtesy of some time to think. “You always _did_ cling to Adora like a Pilot Fish clings to a Shark.”

Catra didn’t understand the analogy, but somehow it felt like it was intended as an insult.

“Still” said the hologram “if you’ve outlived _me_ , then you’re clearly more of a survivor than I gave you credit for. I always _knew_ you were a fighter, but I always _assumed_ you’d burn out spectacularly sooner or later. Evidently, you’re more resilient than I thought. I’m glad.”

It was those last two words that gave Catra pause. Up until that moment it had been the standard barbs framed as faint praise that she had come to expect from the women who had brought her up, but being invested in whether she lived or died? That was new coming from Shadow Weaver. Catra thought she had seen it in the sorceress once before, in that cell in the Fright Zone, but that had all been a lie. It _had_ just been a lie, right?

“I have nothing to give you” the hologram went on “and frankly I doubt you’d accept anything if I tried. Knowing you, you’d probably claw it to pieces out of spite.”

“Damn right” Catra muttered under her breath.

“Just know…” Shadow Weaver continued “that I am singularly impressed by the woman you have become. As loath as I am to admit it, you _may_ even be stronger than _me_. Adora is in safe hands.”

Catra didn’t have a retort for that. She tried her best to muster some snarky reply, or indeed, even _think_ it, but she couldn’t find it within herself. She felt her breathing grow shaky as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Why had she asked Adora to hold this thing? Why was she giving Shadow Weaver a chance to make her feel like this again? Every fibre of her being screamed at her to rise from her chair, sprint out of the room, and find the darkest, quietest corner that she could to hide in. As she went to push off from her chair though, Adora grabbed her wrist, firmly but not forcefully.

“Catra, it’s okay. It’s okay to let yourself feel. I know that it hurts; heck, I’m beating myself up for caring about what she thinks too, but what she did isn’t on us. Her mistakes are her own fault, and we should be allowed to think about her however we like, whether she deserves it or not.”

Catra relaxed her muscles as much as she could, and lowered herself back into her chair. “You’re right; of course, you’re right. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it” Adora smiled back, fighting back her own tears. “And she’s right you know: I _am_ in safe hands with you.”

Those words felt a lot better when it was Adora who was saying them. Catra leant over to nuzzle into her partner’s shoulder, without a care for the fact that they weren’t alone. If she was going to let herself feel, she might as well let other people see her do it as well.

“Well… that’s enough from me” the Shadow Weaver hologram piped up. Catra was surprised it had even paused long enough to let her and Adora talk, but perhaps the Shadow Weaver of the past had required a moment to compose herself after the no-doubt arduous task of praising her.

“I’ll leave you to conduct whatever the rest of this funeral entails” the projection continued. “I suspect you’re all _impatiently_ waiting for a chance to _dance_ on my _grave_ or the like. Just don’t forget that _I_ helped to make your victory possible.”

Catra and Adora guessed what the last line was going to be before the hologram even spoke.

“You’re welcome.”

With that, the projection flickered out of existence, leaving only the inanimate mask shards on the table. Castaspella still stood nearby, having not moved during the entire experience.

“Well then…” she said, attempting to collect her thoughts “I think we’ve all heard and said everything we needed to, so unless anyone has any objections, I say we skip to the last part of the proceedings.”

Catra and Adora exchanged a brief, communicative glance before the former spoke up: “No argument here. Let’s get that fire going.”

The bonfire was beautiful, or, at least, as beautiful as a large pile of burning sticks could be. Perhaps it was the fact that Adora was stood watching it with her that made it seem that way, Catra reflected. Still, there was one way to make the sight even more pleasing…

“You wanna do the honours?” Adora asked, handing her the shards of mask.

“You bet I do” Catra grinned back.

Walking as close to the fire as the heat would allow, she cast the shards into the flames. They began to blacken and crumple under the heat almost instantly; evidently whatever protective charm Shadow Weaver had placed on the mask had dissipated after her message had been delivered. The others gathered around, and watched along with Catra until the mask had burned to cinders indistinguishable from the rest of the kindling.

The guests mingled around the fire late into the evening, sharing stories, laughing, crying on occasion. Glimmer and Bow even stopped by, having just got out of another late-running lab session. Catra was glad they hadn’t been there for the earlier part, but she didn’t mind the extra company now. It felt good, on a day that had been all about someone being gone, to remind herself of how many people were still in her life; who would continue to be in her life, as long as she wanted them.

Eventually, all the funeralgoers retired for the night, saying their goodbyes as Micah doused the fire with a quick spell. Catra and Adora sat out a little while longer after that, their backs to the pile of ash, instead opting to look out at the picturesque night sky.

“How are you feeling?” Adora asked drowsily as she leaned into Catra’s side.

“Good” Catra replied with a lightness to her voice that surprised herself. “I think I feel good.” And for the first time in a long while, possibly her whole life, she believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that. I hope you liked my little take on this concept. Also, Shadow Weaver speaks in, like, 50% italics and I won't hear otherwise. xD


End file.
